


I can’t bear to sleep without you in my arms

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Body Worship, Canon-Typical Undressed Zolf Smith, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, HOT ZOLF RIGHTS, M/M, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: He is, at the end of the day, a simple man, with simple tastes.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 26
Kudos: 90





	I can’t bear to sleep without you in my arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoloXam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/gifts).



> This was inspired by a piece of art drawn by lovely Holo of the beefy boy himself. I couldn't resist cheering myself up with a little exploration of how much Oscar loves his husband because I am soft and this is soft.
> 
> (Title from Sight of the Sun by fun.)

He is, at the end of the day, a simple man, with simple tastes.

Good wine, good food.

A plush bed in a safe and comfortable home.

A half-naked dwarf in his bedroom.

Oscar sighs, giving up on his book and setting it on the nightstand in favour of watching Zolf move around their room, completely unaware of how utterly and unfairly stunning he is.

The low glow sent out from their bedside lamps renders him in shadow and light in the most appealing way, catching on the curve of his pecs, the round swell of his belly. The strong expanse of his shoulders, covered in tattoos that take on an entirely different appearance when artfully shaded by darkness.

Oscar’s fingers itch with the need to touch, and he chews on his lip to stifle a hungry sigh.

_Fuck._

Oscar watches the delightful play of muscles in Zolf’s back as the dwarf reaches up into their wardrobe, cursing quietly under his breath as he searches for something amongst piles of Oscar’s clothes.

“Oscar.”

He nearly moans at the displeased tone of his husband’s voice. Gods. “Yes love?”

“Where’s my pyjama shirt?”

He knows the answer instantly. It’s in the laundry waiting to be washed after Zolf left him alone for two nights last week and he needed the comfort of his husband’s scent to actually be able to sleep. But he doesn’t say this. Instead:

“Do you _really_ need it?”

Zolf turns, slowly, revealing that lovely expanse of chest, dotted with hair that he wants to bury his face in. He’s trying to scowl but it’s ruined by the smirk playing at the side of his mouth.

“You want me to catch a chill?”

Oscar beams. “I can assure you that I will _not_ let you get cold, dearest.”

Zolf crosses to the foot of the bed, then moves around to Oscar’s side. The moment he’s within reach Oscar shoves the covers down and swings legs over the bed to trap him. Oscar’s look of triumph matches Zolf’s quietly pleased grin as he starts to trail fingers over the tattoos on his husband’s arms.

Zolf’s silent as Oscar hums a little tune, folding one palm over his heart and the other down over his belly, feeling the give of the fat and muscle as Oscar digs in hungry fingers. He dances his fingers through Zolf’s chest hair and smiles at the little groan he gets when he tugs at it. There are far too many beautiful memories associated with _that_ action for it to not inspire such sounds.

“You enjoying yourself?”

Oscar smiles, curving his hand lower, over the heavy weight of Zolf’s stomach that swells over his waistband. It makes him think a hundred lovely things to feel how _solid_ his husband is, how alive, how strong. A thrill of possessive glee chases over him, knowing that only _he_ gets to touch Zolf this way, only _he_ gets to admire and worship at the altar of Zolf Smith.

“Infinitely.”

Zolf stretches one of those lovely strong hands up to tangle in Oscar’s hair, tugging him in for a kiss that leaves Oscar a whimpering mess of a man.

Lost in their embrace, Oscar wraps arms around the bulk of Zolf’s torso and _squeezes_ , hands flat and firm against the muscles of his back.

Eventually Zolf urges him back with a gentle tug of his hair, cheeks stained with a pleased little flush. “Wasn’t aware I married a limpet.”

Oscar screws up his nose. “Well that’s quite an analogy. The loveliest thing I have ever been called, without doubt.”

“Oscar.” Zolf says, all soft and amused in that way that destroys him every time. “Get back in bed.”

He barely has to put a hint of command into his voice - it’s always there, right under the surface, and Oscar reluctantly draws back, settling up against his nest of pillows once more. “You better be joining me.”

“‘Course. _Someone_ stole my clothes, so I’ll need my bed warmer.”

Oscar grins, watching Zolf climb up onto the bed and quickly divest himself of his prostheses. “Wait, I take it back, _that_ ’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever been called.”

“Give over.” Zolf grumbles, shifting over until he’s curled into Oscar’s side.

One strong arm loops around his waist and Oscar hides a smile in the top of Zolf’s head, smoothing his fingers up the length of it, nails biting in just enough to make Zolf shiver. His other hand settles on the back of Zolf’s neck then slides down, settling heavy on the rise of his lovely arse.

“Satisfied?”

He gets nothing but a small little grumble out of Zolf as his husband turns to yawn into his chest and clicks fingers to extinguish the lights in the room. Within a few minutes, Oscar’s fingers dancing over the curve of his bicep, Zolf is asleep.

With an armful of handsome dwarf, Oscar is not slow to follow.


End file.
